The magic of books just enchants me. I love reading, what more can I say?

Hey guys! Welcome to today's blog tour! No Greater Illusion is a self-published dystopian novel of about 318 pages by K. Baskett. Check out the blurb! It sure looks interesting! I love dystopians:)

No Greater Illusion

In the very near future, surging advancements in technology have afforded American citizens with a number of conveniences. Of these, most notable is the SmartTag, a microchip embedded under the skin between index finger and thumb, housing all manner of personal information such as bank account details, medical history, voter registration and more.

This tightly-woven tale follows the lives of several very different people – Tealia, a free-spirited and intelligent photographer battling with conflicting emotions for her ex-lover; Mercer & Viera Scott, a power couple barely holding on to their marriage as the priorities of success and parenthood slowly become skewed between them; impoverished single mother, Naria, content with her reliance on both her current lover and government assistance to make ends meet; and the Holton family, wealthy beyond measure, enjoying carefree days of privilege and luxury.

Their status quo, however, is about to be undermined as America reacts violently to the brutal assassination of a highly esteemed female presidential nominee on the evening of the debates. As the entire nation struggles to make sense of the ensuing chaos, fear and distrust ramp up to dizzying heights. The end result is a series of grave consequences that will drastically alter life as they know it, making them all wonder how much of their world is but an illusion.

A captivating story that is at once gripping and dark, this brilliantly painted picture of a dystopian America cautions against the power of technology and the folly of taking anything for granted. Haunting and lyrical, No Greater Illusion is an astounding debut novel with a powerful message that lingers long after the final page is read.

Jack of all trades, master of none - save for the art of procrastination - K. Baskett lives by the motto, ""Never do today what can be put off until tomorrow."" K. firmly believes that you aren't really interested in the author's hometown, spouse, children or pets, and has therefore decided to spare you the details. No Greater Illusion is the author's debut novel.

THAT NIGHT, I BECAME an eye witness to murder. The cop who pulled the trigger might have claimed it was “self-defense” or “protection from an imminent threat,” but all I saw was a 90-pound woman brandishing a lug wrench that was almost too heavy for her to lift.
“Conspiracy!” she yelled at the top of her lungs and used all of her might to swing the weapon at a nearby car, shattering the driver’s side window.
“Stand down,” ordered the nearest police officer in a booming voice, as he and countless others surveyed the entire riot scene unfolding before us.
“Never. We want justice,” the lady screamed, successfully breaking out the rear passenger’s side window this time. The officer made a move toward the woman and she turned to him, struggling for purchase as she raised the lug wrench over her head. A crazed expression morphed her face into a vacant wasteland, so that she appeared to be gazing at and through the officer at the same time, eyes and mouth sloping downward, gaping. She looked to be coming straight from the office, dressed conservatively in a pencil skirt and high heels, which I noticed because they were so inappropriate. Skinny as the tool in her hands, she posed little to no physical threat and could have easily been subdued by some other method, so I was surprised when the police officer drew his gun.
“I’m warning you. Stand down,” the officer growled, his eyes two hard pebbles of flint, sparking as he aimed the gun squarely at the woman’s heart.
She moved with no forewarning and surprising quickness. Like a lioness, she pounced, and got close enough to the officer to be able to see the color of his eyes before he fired his weapon. It was nothing like in the movies. His gun made more of a popping sound rather than a loud bang. In all the noise it could have been mistaken for something else, like a car backfiring or a tire exploding. She collapsed instantly, freefalling, slamming to the pavement with so much force her body seemed to bounce once before landing in a final thud, facedown, her fist still clutching a tool used for changing flat tires. Her entire back was a mass of gore from the exit wound, blood so dark it looked black in the low light, soaking her smart silk blouse and pooling around her body in an ever expanding puddle.
Even in the midst of the mayhem, there seemed to be an almost pure silence that descended over the immediate circle of people surrounding the woman’s corpse. Their stillness attracted even more attention than the gunshot and the crowd around the fallen woman grew. The officer began to slowly back up, a look of dread on his face. He spoke into his shoulder radio, “Two-forty-eight requesting backup at Sixth and Watson. Code thirty. I repeat: I need units at Sixth and Watson, immediately.”
The officer’s call for backup shifted the crowd’s focus from the dead woman to him.
“He did it,” someone spoke clearly from the group. “The cop.”
The officer continued to step backward, gingerly almost.
Another yell came from my right. “Ol’ racist ass cop!”
The crowd closed in and began to slowly advance toward the officer. I stood on the perimeter, not sure if I wanted to get involved.
“Fall back,” the officer ordered, pointing his gun into the crowd now, aiming in the general direction from where the slur came.
Various shouts rang out in response, more people getting agitated now and too many of them yelling at once to clearly decipher any one phrase.
“I will not hesitate to discharge my weapon,” he warned.
We see that, I thought. Obviously he was ready to pull the trigger yet again.
The closer the crowd got, the more the officer seemed to be losing his aura of authority, his confidence getting smothered by fear, his eyes now showing uncertainty where before there was boldness. Not a soul had responded to his call for backup. The city’s police force was sorely understaffed and everyone knew that in this chaos there weren’t nearly enough officers to go around. The gun trembled slightly in his hand as he pointed it at the closest target, a young black man in his early twenties advancing to the front of the crowd. He was shirtless, wearing nothing above the waist but several large black tattoos, his athletic body coiled with intent.
“Crooked cops,” the young man stated passionately, as a matter of fact. “I fucking hate the police.” He glanced back at the others and raised his voice with that last statement.
They thundered their hearty agreement.
“So what we gonna do about this racist motha fucka?” the young man snarled, having assumed leadership of the crowd by their earlier assent.
“Don’t try me,” the officer shrieked. He made another useless call for backup, panicked and on edge. The crowd had backed him into a wall and like any cornered animal he was ready to attack.
“Grab him!” The suggestion came in the form of a growl.
The young man sprang forward, all that tension uncoiling from his chiseled muscles in a single smooth leap. With a wild look in his eye, the officer pulled the trigger. In his agitation, he actually missed the young leader and instead his bullet found someone else who screamed out in agony as their flesh was torn. This indiscriminate shooting incited the crowd even more, and in the time it took the cop to fire another shot into the group, he was completely buried under a pile of angry bodies, swarming around him like bees to the hive.

Hundreds
of years into the future, mankind has gone under ground to relocate
to the beautiful city of Epsilon. Epsilon is run by a strong,
secretive government that keeps its citizens in check by subtle
manipulation and strict schedules. No one questions its authority and
no one is unhappy. ALN-896, an average man who is just trying to
live a normal life, begins to have dreams; something strange and rare
in Epsilon. In his dreams, he meets a man named Harry and everything
is fine- until Harry dies. When ALN-896 wakes up, he shrugs it off as
if nothing has happened. It was only a dream. But then the next day,
he is suddenly arrested and sent to prison for killing Harry, whom
ALN-896 assumed was just a figment of his imagination. Now
inside prison, ALN-896 begins to learn about everything the
government of Epsilon has been doing and he plans on escaping. Not
only from prison, but from Epsilon. This one decision turns him
against everything he has ever known and forces him to face against
centuries of lies. To escape means to live. But what will it cost?

About The Author:

ZackeryAlexander Humphreys is a Novelist, Actor and Poet who occasionallydabbles in Screen Writing and Play Writing.

ALN-896 finally
managed to pull away from the exposed wire. He fell to the ground and
wiped away the spit dribbling down his cheek. His heart raced, and
sweat poured down his body.

That was the most
painful sensation he had ever experienced.

I never should have
grabbed that wire...

ALN-896 stood up
slowly and looked around. No one saw what had just happened. He was
alone on the desolate stretch of Simov Street.

Fortunately, I did
not get hurt.

Instead of continuing,
he decided to get back into his car and let a nice cup of tea calm
him.

From the center
console of the car, green tea was automatically dispensed into a cup.
He let the liquid slide down his throat, easing every muscle that had
tensed. He melted into his plush seat as he let his mind come to a
halt. Then the silence was interrupted by a robotic voice. “ALN-
896, your vitals are irregular. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine.
I went to inspect one of the house's trashcans as I was instructed
to, but I noticed an exposed wire on the ground. I went to cover it
back up when it...”

ALN-896 wasn't quite
sure what had actually
happened when he touched the wire. He hadn’t been electrocuted, but
something strange had occurred. The only thing he could get out of
the experience was that he had seen a black-and-white tie floating in
the darkness behind his closed eyelids. Nothing surrounded it, but he
knew it had been attached to a body. One he hadn’t been able see,
but one he knew existed somewhere within the black.

Irrelevant.

“When it...,”
ALN-896 stumbled. “When it shocked me,” he lied.

“Your job still
needs to be completed. You still need to inspect the trashcans for
Monday's workday. After your tea, you need to continue.”

“Yes, I understand.”

--------------------

And now, let's invite Zackery to the blog for a short post!

Authors That Have
Inspired Me

In
life, we typically learn how to do something from those that come before us.
For example, if you want to learn how to drive, we either have our parents,
friends, or some random stranger teach us the difference between the gas and
brake pedals so we don't plow into the side of buildings when we want to stop
at a stop sign. If we want to learn how to snowboard we can either learn on our
own or ask for help from the local ski resort guide, the former of which might
include far more bruises, the latter of which may include awkward
conversations. Regardless, the best solution is to usually learn by example, so
when I set out to write my first novel, it took quite a bit of reading to get a
good idea of the kind of writing-style I preferred, as well as learn the
ins-and-outs of grammar for mainstream literature.

The
first book I read that really inspired me was Fahrenheit 451 by Ray
Bradbury. In fact, more than any other book, this one was the one that really
got the gears running. Not only did it fall in the same genre of
Science-Fiction but it also tackled some of the same ideas I wanted to include
in Epsilon A.R.. Ray Bradbury's beautiful writing spoke to me and I knew
from that moment onward that I wanted my novel out of my head and on paper.

The
next book that really inspired me was The Anthem by Ayn Rand. For the
same reasons as Fahrenheit 451,” Rand's work really got me thinking
about what kind of novel I wantedEpsilon A.R. to be. It also introduced
this notion of history within the world that I wanted to include. I didn't just
want to focus on one character, I wanted an entire world with its own history.
The tone of the piece, as well, spoke volumes (pun intended) to me and lent to
some of the darker tones of my novel.

The
last book, or series in this case, that really stretched my imagination was
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. Snicket introduced a
style of writing I adored, but more so, this sense of conspiracy and lose. I
found that I didn't need to spoon feed information to the readers and instead,
I could let certain secrets bubble under the surface for a while. Secrets and
conspiracy found its way into nearly every corner of the dark room I call Epsilon
A.R. and Lemony Snicket is partly to blame for that.

With
all of these, as well as countless other resources pulled from other books,
movies, music and history, I found a way to weave a story that I hope does all
of these inspirations justice. If it does, we can all say, “Hip-hip-hooray!”
and wait for that sequel. If not, you can say, “Boo!” but I'm still going to
write the sequel.

This book simply looks great. While I have not had the time to get to it, I think I'm going to make time for it, even though I'm preparing for my exams. It just looks that good. Love triangle hmm.

Fall

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: May 7th 2013

ISBN: 978-0-9917327-1-5

Number of pages: 244 approx.
Word Count: 98,000

Cover Artist: Mark Paterson

“He’s destroying me—us. I need him like my next breath, yet I’m suffocating.”

An unrequited love that has ripped her to pieces.

Delara has loved Waleron for over a century. Their intense chemistry is sensual, gripping, irresistible. But tragedy struck, and after sixty-one years of believing he was dead, Waleron returns a tortured man. He claims the man she loves is dead, yet the undeniable sexual tension still pulls them together.

“I am no longer the man you love, maitagarri. I am incapable of it.”

Waleron has given his oath to protect the Senses. He will sacrifice everything for them. But there is one Senses he has vowed to protect more than any other—Delara. He will do anything to make certain she is safe, even if it means he must deny her the love they once shared.

She is the hunted.

Delara’s life is in jeopardy and Waleron will do anything to protect her. But he never suspected that Xamien, the man he brings to help protect her is way more important to her than he ever knew.

Torn between two men and hunted by another, Delara must fight her hardest battle—herself.

I am Xamien’s secret lover. Well, in my head I am and since I’m single this is completely allowed. Some of you may ask, who is Xamien, don’t worry you will meet him soon enough, but no falling in love with him. He is all mine.

Writing books is a fantastic way to have adventures that are impossible to have otherwise. I mean do you really want to fall in love with Waleron? He is so unstable and would never pick up after your dogs or clean the litter box. Not to mention the fact that he is always out killing disgusting grave robbing bug people.

Curling up with a good book and losing yourself to another time and place is the greatest reward. Being able to feel a character’s emotions, their fears, pain and love. Now that is incredible. I relish in the books that stay with me long after they have ended. This is what I strive for in my writing. To give the readers, and myself, an escape into another world, my world.

I have been writing since I was twelve. My parents, sorry mom and dad, would send me to my room for an hour every night to do homework, and instead I wrote stories. Oops, guess that is why I did so bad in math.

I have never stopped writing since then and never will. It’s like an addiction, but a good one. I adore stepping into the shoes of a character and deciding their fate. The characters are why I write. I want to fall in love with them (even the bad ones), so that I care about what happens to them in a story. If I can’t care about the characters then why bother with the story.

Waleron changed gears, and put his hand on top of hers. His thumb rhythmically stroked back and forth across the back of her hand. It was a gesture that she hadn’t anticipated out of Waleron.
She didn’t want to pull away, but knew she had to.
“We need to discuss a couple things, Maitagarri.”
Here we go. Waleron was always one for complete control over every situation and she was certain this situation was more than he’d ever projected having to deal with.
“You will never discuss where I live. Ever.” Fair enough. “A few rooms remain locked. Do not attempt to open them. For any reason.” Okay, so he had more secrets locked away. Figures. “You will not venture outside the premises.” She rolled her eyes. “And despite what I show you tonight, you will not speak of the Lilac. Do you understand me?”
“Pez, I know your narcissistic kaleidoscope of rules.”
“Then you know that I will accept nothing but compliance from you in my house.”
“I can follow a few rules, Pez. I’m a Senses. A warrior. Or have you forgotten that? Because it seems you’ve forgotten a hell of a lot lately. Like that I’m single and can fuck whoever I want and you dragging me away from him won’t stop that.”
“You’re trying to hurt me.”
“Damn right I am.” She had to and she hated it. But if it was the only way to protect him then she’d do it. He couldn’t lose his Taldeburu. She was hoping he’d turn the car around and change his mind after her harsh words. He didn’t.
“How long have you been with Xamien, Delara?”
Damn it, this is not something she wanted to discuss with him. Having him know that she went to Xamien after the bargain with Trinity, the witch-bitch—that she stayed with Xamien to heal from her emotional wounds Waleron cut into her soul. God, her pride would take a beating. He didn’t deserve to know she still was tortured.
“Delara.”
“A while.”
He glanced at her and she recognized the scowl. It meant spit it out cause I’m not letting the issue go. Fine, he wanted the truth, he’d get it. “When you decided to sleep with Trinity, I went to Xamien.”
More silence.

And now, let's welcome Delara, main character of Fall for a short character interview.

Interview

the Senses Tracker Delara

Heroine of “FALL”

I’d like to welcome Delara from Cindy Paterson’s novel FALL to the blog today. FALL is the 3rd book in the Senses series, however it can be read as a standalone. FALL, among other things, is about the love triangle between Delara and two leaders of the Senses.

“Correct?”

Delara sits across from me and pours herself a coffee—black. “A Senses leader is called a Taldeburu. And it is much more than a love triangle as you’re well aware.”

“Yes, of course. Well, thank you Delara for joining us today.”

“My pleasure. When Cindy asked if I would come and answer a few quick questions I was hesitant. She asked that you not mention certain private matters?” I nod. “You understand the Senses have had some really devastating and upsetting few years. We’ve lost some good Senses. Some not so good.”

She wraps both her hands around her coffee and looks down at the liquid. She appears way more exotic than I realized after reading FALL. Small in stature, tough exterior, but I could finally see why two Taldeburu’s wanted this woman—hypnotic. Was it the sweetness in her soft features? Or the hidden mystery in her eyes? “I understand that. Sorry for your losses.”

Delara nods and gives a half smile. It looks like Jedrik took his knife to her hair again. Jagged strands that are uneven and yet for some reason it suites her.

“So these are quick answer questions. I may ask if you can expand. Cool?”

“Sounds good,” she answers.

I clear my throat. “What turns you on?”

“Grappling.”

“I believe I know why, but perhaps you’d like to expand for our guests today?”

“To a point, sure. Waleron taught me how to grapple when I first joined the Talde—that is a group of Senses. If any of you know Waleron, you can imagine what he’s like when he is trying to teach you something. A brutal, relentless instructor. But my ability has saved my life a number of times, so totally worth it.”

“And it became more than grappling.” I wink and Delara smiles. “What turns you off?”

She hesitates and I notice her running her hands up and down her thighs. Interesting. No pinching her thighs like she did in the novel. “Disappointment. In myself. Seeing someone you care about and they have this look in their eyes that goes right to the bones. Waleron could do that to me.”

I jump at the chance to integrate the other man in her life. “Xamien?”

Delara hesitates and I wonder what she’s thinking about. It’s obvious Xamien is really important to her. “Xamien has his own way of showing how he’s feeling. I suspect you know exactly what I’m referring too?”

I do. Xamien had some interesting ways for a woman to forget her problems. It involved chocolate sauce and ropes. I was also sure he’d use the same tactic if he wanted his woman to know how disappointed he was with her. I notice Delara has this secret smile and I wonder if she is reading my thoughts. I’m forgetting that the Senses can easily read humans thoughts. “Type of underwear?”

Delara laughs. “Well, I will give you this, I love lace.”

“Least favorite word?”

“‘Try’ and if you’ve read FALL you know exactly why. And for those who have yet to read any of the books, well ‘try’ is a word you will see often coming from one particular Senses.”

“I loved Xamien’s horses. Did you get over your fear of them?”

She looks away and turns her mug slowly on the table. When she looks up again, I see tears glistening. “No. And yes. Xamien’s horses are trained with trust and respect. It is a bond between human and horse that is magical. Something natural and pure. Don’t think I’d trust just any horse.”

“Xadea following you and Xamien was pretty remarkable.” I quickly move on. “What enemy could you like?”

“A GQ helped us once. A good guy.”

“GQs. Can you expand on that for those that haven’t read the books?”

“Yeah, One of the Center World Other species. Best we can guess, they descend from certain bugs from the center of the earth. When they reach the surface they steal the bodies of dead people, and then become a real pain in the ass. GQs are the hardest to kill and we think they descend from the cockroach. Only way to kill them is decapitation.

“What did you think of Xamien when you first saw him?”

Delara laughs. “Well, the very first time I can’t remember, but the second time…hmmm. How do I say this? Xamien is sexy as hell and he knows it.” She tucks a few stray strands behind her ear. “There is no pretense with Xamien. He is Alpha all the way, like most Senses, but he has the power behind him to pull it off without a hitch. I swear when I saw him my body tingled from head to toe. He does that to a woman. But the worst part is Xamien knows he does and, at times, he uses it to his advantage.” She smiles. “He has an amazing heart though. Once you get past the bullshit, he’d do anything for those he cares about.”

“And he does care about you.”

She remains quiet. I can tell she is beginning to get uncomfortable by how her hand is rubbing her thigh again. Okay, end it now before her Senses man comes barging down my door. “Thank you Delara, for taking the time to talk with me and the readers. You are one lucky woman to have two hot dominant men after your heart.”

“Lucky? No, I’d never consider my situation lucky. Tragic. I care about both men a great deal…I love them both in very different ways. Hurting either of them is very painful.”

“Yes, I can imagine. I was torn between them. They both are…well, magnetic men shall we say.”

Delara hints at a smile. “Thank you Flame for having me. Cindy asked that I say thank you from her as well. I will be meeting her later to discuss some…issues regarding the next novel.”

“Care to share?” I cross my fingers.

Delara stands. “I wish I could, but the story is still in the writing process. Cindy may not be Senses, but she uses the backspace button—a lot.”

I stand and Delara reaches out to shakes my hand then walks to the door.

“Oh one more thing. It’s been a few months now, did you make the right choice, Delara?”

Hey guys! Sorry for the late post, and for the lack of a review! Life has been quite crazy recently so yeah. My apologies! This is Crescent, by Homer Hickam, Book 2 in the Helium-3 series. It is published by Thomas Nelson.

Crescent

They said she wasn’t human. They were wrong.
A seemingly endless war against the insurgent Crowhoppers keeps the people of Moontown fighting when they’d rather be mining valuable Helium-3. Crater Trueblood’s valiant efforts against the genetically-manipulated beings weighs heavily on his mind. What is he really fighting for?
In the midst of a deadly battle, Crater captures an enemy Crowhopper. But this one he refuses to kill. “It” is genetically more human than not and its gender seems to be female. She calls herself Crescent.
Crater takes her to Moontown as a prisoner of war, but treats her kindly. However, at the hands of Moontown residents Crescent experiences prejudice and even cruelty.
Soon Crescent is imprisoned for a murder she didn’t commit. Crater comes to her aid, and the two become fugitives, escaping into the vast expanse of hostile terrain called “the big suck.” For Crater, it turns out the cause most worth fighting for may be right by his side.

Homer Hickam is the author of many best-selling books with his best known the acclaimed memoir Rocket Boys: A Memoir which was made into the award-winning film October Sky where he was portrayed by Jake Gyllenhaal.
Born and raised in the small mining town of Coalwood, West Virginia, Homer is a graduate of Virginia Tech, a Vietnam veteran, a scuba instructor, a paleontologist, and a former NASA engineer. He has won many literary awards including the Clarence Cason Journalism Award from the University of Alabama and an honorary doctorate in Literature from Marshall University.

Homer and his wife Linda and their five cats share their time between homes in Huntsville, Alabama and St. John of the U.S. Virgin Islands.

LinkWithin

About Me

My name's Victoria and I love to read! And I guess no matter how busy I am, I'll always find time to read because you can't stop a passion, can you? I love netball, especially shooting, there's just something so peaceful about it, isn't there?

I started blogging in 2011, around November. I've fallen in love with it. Blogging about books just is so fun. Of course, I haven't been the most active of bloggers due to school:( Hopefully that will change now that I'm finally free!

But above all, I love my Lord Jesus Christ, my Savior. I've put my trust in Him. Because I know that no matter what, He will never forsake me nor leave me.

Affiliates!

Quote of the Day

Subscribe To

I'm a...

If I have inadvertently used any of your material without proper linking, do contact me immediately and I will take it down at once/link the material to you, whichever you prefer. I do try my best not to use any copyrighted material (especially for photos) but sometimes I lack attribution due to ignorance.